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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26540446">Shadows, Wizardry, and Pink Toads</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessLunaLover/pseuds/PrincessLunaLover'>PrincessLunaLover</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Yu-Gi-Oh! Brainrot [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ancient Egypt, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Horror, Multi, Mythical Beings &amp; Creatures, Other, just a lot of conspiracies, your standard gang goes to hogwarts fic except it's really not</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:54:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,774</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26540446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessLunaLover/pseuds/PrincessLunaLover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Golden Trio find themselves in an odd year, as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers and Magic History teachers are replaced by two foreigners-one a near muggle, on top of it. Soon, they find themselves embroiled in a plot involving necromancy, the underworld, and a mysterious Pharaoh who everyone wants to return. And a pink toad in the middle, with chaos all around</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Atem/Kaiba Seto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Yu-Gi-Oh! Brainrot [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2293814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was quite used to magic, and the rules of magic. Some things, no matter how sacred, could not be broken. The laws of time were final, the laws of death were just as final. And the laws of the human soul were so absolute and final that they were considered magic completely beyond forbiddance, magic that would pervert the very laws of man itself.</p><p>As a supreme Warlock of Witch and Wizardry, as Headmaster of Hogwarts and all that came with the magic of such a world, Albus Dumbledore had spent a good portion of his life dedicated to the study of magic, and the study of the laws that governed the known universe. Indeed, while magic would seem to muggles to be the study of the completely impossible, the thaumaturgical arts were no less concrete than all the laws of science that muggles held to dearly.</p><p>Perhaps it was arrogance of mage society-no, <em>certainly</em> it was the arrogance of mage society-that held them to such higher standards over muggles, and their science. To hone and develop magecraft was. Indeed-the true magic of the world lay not in the spells that any wizard or witch could preform, but in the mystical arts that could make miracles happen.</p><p>Miracles were the one magic that Albus Dumbledore could never understand.</p><p>And so it came to pass that Albus Dumbledore, in his study of the true magics of the world-the craft that could never be attained, even if given infinite time and resources by all the mages and scientists of the world-that Dumbledore delved too deeply into the evil that all men could become if truly left unrestricted, and he found himself giving up and backing away, once he saw the darkness that humanity could attain if not for the acceptance that some things-if not any miracles-should be completely left alone.</p><p>Nobody could truly warp reality, grant a wish, or raise the dead. Nobody could truly force love upon another person, nobody could truly turn back time and travel faster than the speed of light. Nobody could break the conventions of science, and it was an arrogant fool's wish to try.</p><p>It was, perhaps, fate that would lead a man like Albus Dumbledore to encounter and hire a man like Seto Kaiba. Maybe it was fate that decided to teach Dumbledore that dreams should not so easily be abandoned, or to teach a man like Dumbledore that some men were truly worthy of such a task, even if it was not the case for himself. Or maybe it was just a cruel irony that laughed at him in this way.</p><p>Nevertheless, things still tended to surprise him. Whether it be the braveness of man in the face of death-a more abstract concept, really-or something that was more concrete, such as the mysteries of the deepest magics.</p><p>The Age of the Gods, a thing that ended so long ago, was one filled with the deepest magic. It was an ache among wizards to return to such a time, an age filled with wizards who could reach the true miracles of the gods-magic from before the time of science. Deep, ancient magic-the kind that many encountered in a tombkeeper's job-was something that Albus Dumbledore had heard of before, but not that something that he was familiar with.</p><p>Which found Albus Dumbledore, in a middle of an ancient desert, sitting at an old, wooden table across from a young man.</p><p>The man sitting across from him could not have been much older than his early twenties, with dark skin and long hair that reached somewhere around his mid-back. Wearing some kind of colorful robe with gold and blue embroidery, and a veil over his hair, he seemed to be writing something in papyrus and ink, not looking at Dumbledore as he did so.</p><p>"Well, I must say. I have never been a guest in a house like this before."</p><p>The words were full of good humor, something that Dumbledore was quite adept at, blue eyes twinkling from behind the half-moon glasses as the other man continued to write. He seemed to be utterly engrossed in his work for a few more minutes, before he glanced back up, and Dumbledore got a good look at his face.</p><p>It was quite a grave one-unusual, for a man his age-and his eyes were deep and dark, speaking of an age far greater than the young face that he showed. Folding his hands in front of his face, the young man leaned forward, so that he could properly get another look at Dumbledore himself-and the Supreme Warlock got the impression that the young man was regarding him with just as much seriousness that Dumbledore regarded him.</p><p>"Introduce yourself. You are in company much higher than yourself."</p><p>Dumbledore chuckled, removing his hat and holding it in his hands-a sign of politeness, even if he was quite sure that the other man would not understand, considering his style of dress, and the style of the home around them. Something made of sandstone and marble, something stacked high with papyrus and reeds-it gave him the impression that he had stepped back into the realm of the ancients, far before he had ever been in this world.</p><p>"I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I am a recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, and held the title of Grand Sorcerer. I am quite serious about being the most skilled wizard in the world these days-or at least the most skilled wizard in all of Europe in these modern times."</p><p>The corner of the other man's mouth tilted upwards, and he rested his chin on his interlocked fingers.</p><p>"Very well, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I believe some sort of arrangement can be made for the both of us-a mutually-beneficial arrangement."</p><p>"A mutually beneficial arrangement?"</p><p>"Indeed."</p><p>He removed another scroll from his pile, flicking his wrist to do so. The scroll floated to him, the runes lifting off the surface to enwrap themselves around the man. He lifted a brush to continue his work.</p><p>"I am Mahaad, the Keeper of the Valley of the Kings, the High Magician of Egypt, the Priest of the House of Life. I am the right hand of Pharaoh Atem, son of Akhenaden, and leader of the eighteenth dynasty of Kemet, the last of the eighteenth dynasty. I am the most powerful wizard to ever live in history, gifted with true magic to rule over life and death, and exist in physical form long after death by manifesting my soul on this world. I am one of the followers of Set, of the domain of the dead, and my land has been breached by your people-the people of Europe."</p><p>A kind of chill overtook Albus at those words-not just at the titles and epithets, but at the fact that he knew for a fact that the words were true. His mind immediately flashed to muggle museums, to the curse-breaking of the Weasley family, and of the fact that he was not the first to try and beat death itself-and he knew that he would not be the last.</p><p>"If such a thing is true, then why call me here? Could you not simply return to the world yourself, and take whatever it is that has been taken from you?"</p><p>"Albus Dumbledore, you know as well as I do that some things are sacred, and that even users of miraculous power such as myself are not able to completely break those rules. As much as I would like to cross the sands of space and time to take what has been taken from me, I am still beholden to those rules. And that is why I have come to you."</p><p>"To me? And what is this mutual benefit that you think I would seek from you?"</p><p>"Indeed. What I offer is the elimination of the intruder from the land of the dead onto your world, and a cleansing of a pure soul that has been taken by evil. I am a purifier of evil magic, and I clean it from this place. You know as well as I do that evil has latched onto innocence, and that it must be cleansed before the dead can return to where they need to rest."</p><p>Albus Dumbledore, if he felt any kind of shock from the offer given to him, did not react. Instead, he leaned forward, regarding Mahaad with a manner in such a way that the other had given him before.</p><p>"And you would have me believe that you are doing this purely out of a sense of duty, spirit? That there is nothing you personally gain from making a kind of deal with me?"</p><p>"Of course not. What I seek is the return of my King to the land of the living. He is pure of heart, and kind in soul. With you and I working together, the Gate of the Afterlife will be returned to its resting place in Egypt-you and I both know of the magicians who have stolen it from my tombkeepers, and have placed it in your government's chambers. With it returned to me, your Tom Riddle will be defeated, and my King may live as a normal man."</p><p>"And how do you plan to accomplish that?" Albus Dumbledore's brows rose. "Should I believe you about your King? And how would you have me plan to return your gate home?"</p><p>"I will be working with you, as a History of Magic teacher." Mahaad's lips curled. "And I have someone who will be happy to work with you on the mortal side of things, to take down your Tom Riddle, and to help me return my King to this plane. Someone who is also responsible to the Gate of the Dead being opened, and who has the duty, alongside me, to shut it. He will be useful in dealing with the mortal aspects of things. Whence I have returned to you as a spirit, you will meet him."</p><p>"And who is that?"</p>
<hr/><p>Seto Kaiba was not amused.</p><p>Since his excursion to the afterlife-which had taken about six months to recover from, and even longer for his younger brother to recover from the shock of him <em>dying</em> from, before he'd been revived-he had spent a majority of his time working on his company, being convinced by Mokuba that he needed to take time away from his Dimensional Gate to spend time on his stocks and his family more than his research.</p><p>Which, he supposed, was probably healthier. If only for Mokuba's sake.</p><p>And yet-and <em>yet</em>, things like this always seemed to happen to him.</p><p>"You are aware of the fact that I know literally nothing about wizardry, aren't you? And that I can't teach for shit?"</p><p>"And yet, you are happy to start investing in schooling students. Teaching is not much different from that."</p><p>The man's eyes twinkled in a way that made Seto Kaiba want to call security, as he was quite certain of the fact that Pegasus's eye twinkled in the same way before he had taken Seto and thrown him in a cellar.</p><p>"No, it really isn't. What the hell do you want from me, since I <em>know</em> it's not this shit. I have a company to run."</p><p>The wizard's mouth curled further, if possible, and Seto wanted to strangle him right then and there. And stomp on him, for added measure.</p><p>This man-wizard, if he was to be believed-had shown up, right in the middle of Seto Kaiba's office, taking a seat as if he'd own the place. He'd handed over a letter, explained that he was a wizard, and, right on the spot, offered Seto a teaching job.</p><p>Seto didn't even know <em>how</em> to teach. He was <em>barely</em> graduated <em>himself</em>.</p><p>Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat.</p><p>"I need you close to my students, so that you can protect them from someone who has also cheated death, and someone who has the power to keep doing it. When that is out of the way, and his power has been reclaimed, you are going to be allowed to use a little bit of it yourself to reach your goal of reviving the Pharaoh for good."</p><p>Seto's brows rose, and he glanced toward's Mokuba's room, where the other one slept.</p><p>He pulled up a seat.</p><p>"I'm listening."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The creature was less a living thing, and more an abomination. A twisted, emaciated thing—folding in on itself with wrinkled skin, with bulging veins, with rolling eyes and with a hanging jaw.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The thing was a mess of limbs on the floor, bound in chains and unable to move. The chains were of snakes, greedy and bloated worms thirsting after being burned by the flames of the sun, and in the center of the snakes was the rotted soul, laid bare before the waters and reeds.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The creature lay beneath a lake of fire, between two hawks, in an eternal, red sea of swaying reeds. Stranded between the hawks and the snakes, the slivers of soul deemed rotted had barely avoided the hungry jaws of the crocodile.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He lay gasping, shivering. Naked, wet, covered in blood like an infant torn from his mother's arms. Perhaps he could be one, in the eyes of those who surrounded him, in the eyes of the hands reaching out from the water towards him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The hawks tore into him with their beaks, while the snake consumed his own tail. Sharp talons like blades against the creature, while he groaned against the attack. Hands covering his face, the creature squalled like an infant, rattling breaths drawn through his throat while he fought back in sound towards the sky.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was in this form, rattling against the chains of death, that hands reached out from the ground to grasp the thing, fingers against flesh, while the creature was submerged in blood, water, and gold, and reborn into a cauldron of fire and bone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Flesh and fire pouring into one, the lives of innocents sacrificed to blood, the creature was pulled through the hanging gates into gold and emerged with veins dripping in black and mouth open in screams.</em>
</p><p><em>Worms in his bones, the creature devoured his servants, and took life once more</em>.</p><hr/><p>Harry James Potter liked to think himself a perfectly reasonable young man, thank you very much, and the first thing that came to mind with perfectly reasonable young men was the ability to ignore the voices in his head.</p><p>Which was proving increasingly difficult, all things considering, with the increasing frequency of nightmares that would typically get one thrown in what was colloquially known as <em>"the loony bin."</em></p><p>In short, Harry James Potter was rather <em>sick</em> of prophetic dreams.</p><p>Night after night it was the same dream-some kind of world that looked like a desert, with giant animals and pyramids and some kind of kid-thing that was crying in the middle, before he was thrown into a big pot of gold soup and dumped on the ground. It was...well, it was <em>disturbing</em>, if he were being honest, and if he were a couple of years younger, he would have probably attributed it to some kind of late-night horror movie, or maybe eating too much leftover pizza right before passing out in the cupboard under the stairs.</p><p>As it stood, however, Harry had seen <em>far</em> too many coincidences to really discount things like that anymore, and so he was left, staring at the ceiling, brows furrowed while he turned the events of the recent dream over in his mind.</p><p>He wished, for <em>once</em>, that he was still just a muggle, unaware of the world of magic that lay before him. Maybe then, he could just blame it on horror movies, and not something that very well may threaten the souls of himself and his friends and family.</p><p>Burying his hands, in his face, Harry groaned, and then was promptly reminded of why that was such a bad thing to wish when he heard his name screamed at the top of a pair of loud, ear-bleeding lungs.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>"BOY!"</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>In retrospect, he would rather face Voldemort than this.</p><p>Harry, all of fifteen years old, was a scrawny, specky thing with green eyes behind out-of-date prescription lenses (which hadn't been updated since he was eleven), rumpled, black hair (that hadn't been cut since last summer at the Weasley's), and oversized clothes (that hadn't been new since Dudley had stretched them out four years ago-of which the only clean thing at the moment were baggy jeans and a t-shirt that advertised <em>Snapper Jack's Taco Shack</em>). With precious little to his name-nearly all of it (thankfully new) underwear and (unfortunately) hand-me-down socks-Harry had packed his worldly possessions that were muggle friendly in a rucksack weeks ago, and left the rest of it in his trunk under the floorboards, ready for the day when he'd finally be picked up by the Weasleys.</p><p>In all honesty, he had almost been doubting this day would come-he had been half-certain that he'd have to make an escape like he did in second and third year, but it seemed that all of his letters were not <em>totally</em> unanswered, at least for today, and he squashed down the anger that had been growing at his guts towards his friends while he grabbed his things, ready to go, because <em>honestly</em>, why <em>else</em> would his aunt and uncle want to talk to him, if not for this? It was not like they had ever had a civil conversation with him <em>before</em>, and they<em> sure as hell</em> were not going to start <em>now</em>.</p><p>It was with these thoughts in mind that Harry walked down the stairs, sack slung over his shoulder and trunk thudding down the stairs behind him, ready to depart, that he stopped short, utterly frozen in confusion at the man standing before him.</p><p>"Good evening, Mr. Potter, I presume? I am going to be your escort back to Hogwarts, this year."</p><p>The man standing before him was a tall man, at least as tall as Dumbledore, with dark skin and long, brown hair to his mid-back, tied back in a low ponytail at the base of his neck. His eyes were also dark, somewhere around grey to purple, and framed by dark eyeliner. He was also wearing a white suit with a logo on it that Harry did not recognize-a KC, with a small dragon around it.</p><p>Rather than looking like a wizard, quite frankly, he looked more like one of Vernon Dursley's employers. Harry got the distinct impression that this was why his uncle didn't put up <em>too</em> much of a fight in calling Harry down to meet him-he probably thought the man was "respectable" enough in how he dressed to have money to spend.</p><p>"Who are you?"</p><p>The words fell right out of Harry's mouth, before he had any real time to think about him, and the man chuckled softly, giving a polite incline of his head that made the back of Harry's neck flush with embarrassment.</p><p>"My name is Mahaad Al-Sayyid, and you may call me Mr. Al-Sayyid. I represent the Grand Egyptian Museum, and our mission to restore the artifacts in the London Museum to their rightful resting place in the Valley of the Kings. You, Mr. Potter, are going to be a great help to me today, as I have asked Mr. Dumbledore to assist me in this task."</p><p>"Me?"</p><p>Harry pointed at himself in confusion, honestly unsure of how <em>he</em> could be of any assistance. Instead of answering, Mahaad held out his arm for Harry to take, as if he were a much younger child being guided by an older relative.</p><p>"I will explain when you get there."</p><p>Feeling rather frustrated by the lack of answers, Harry hesitated for just a moment, before he took hold of the older man's arm. Hedwig, apparently sensing her owner's foul attitude, clucked in reproach while he stepped over the threshold.</p><p>Harry had been expecting that familiar rush under his naval, or at least some kind of magical pop, but instead, what lay before him was an honest-to-god white <em>limo</em>, with a driver, and another dark-skinned young man and woman-one blonde, one brunette-with the driver being another dark-skinned man with a bald head and a ponytail.</p><p>Harry flushed, feeling rather like he did when he was twelve, and Lockhart declared he was going to teach the Boy-Who-Lived personally. He had the distinct feeling that there were going to be flashbulbs popping in his face at any moment.</p><p>The man with the ponytail opened the limo door for Harry, and if there was any pleasure in the situation at all, it was certainly the look on his cousin's face when Harry stepped into a <em>limo</em>. The man with the ponytail put Harry's luggage in the back, and Harry awkwardly slid into the seat, hands in his lap, feeling out of place among all of the people in suits while he advertised a California taco shack on his person.</p><p>"That's the kid, then?" The blonde asked lazily, lounging back on the chair, sprawled out like he owned the place. "That doesn't seem like too hard a job, you managed to secure everything for <em>his</em> sake?"</p><p>Harry blushed furiously, staring down at his shoes. He felt like he was a kid again, while his relatives talked over him. "My name is Harry, you know."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah." The blonde waved a hand. "Ishtar. Malik Ishtar. This is my older sister, Isis. Our older brother, Rishid, is the one driving."</p><p>The man with the ponytail raised a hand from the wheel and started the car as they went down the street. Next to the woman-Isis-Mahaad sat down, crossing his legs as they all seemed to judge Harry, making him feel like he did whenever the teachers found out his scar was sore.</p><p>"What do you want from me?" He finally asked, daring to meet the eyes of the strangers around him. It was Mahaad who answered-and Harry was quickly deciding that Mahaad was his favorite, judging from the fact that he was meeting Harry's gaze, and bothering to address him in the first place.</p><p>"Your evil wizard, Tom Riddle, has returned, has he not?" Mahaad asked, making Harry jerk his chin up to look at the other-the first bit of news he'd heard the entire summer, the first person to <em>tell him something.</em> "We have reason to believe he used a very valuable Ancient Egyptian artifact to do so, and thus the return of our history hinges on the fact that you saw him return.”</p><p>Quite frankly, Harry did not care less about something like history, when there was Lord Voldemort being talked about in front of him. Lunging forward in excitement, Harry grabbed his own knees to balance himself. “Really, you heard about him? What’s he been doing? Why hasn’t Dumbledore talked about him to me?”</p><p>The man held up a hand—something which immediately caused Harry’s temper to flare, and something which he tried to suppress, despite the fact that he felt the immediate urge to jump the man and throttle him for more info (so much for his favorite stranger so far, at the very least).</p><p>“Dumbledore has asked us to not tell you anything, and we will respect his wishes. Instead, we are bringing you to the Wizangamot to testify Tom Riddle’s return. Your meeting will be tomorrow afternoon, and until then, you will be staying in London with us.”</p><p>“London?” Harry blinked, slumping back in his chair, feeling almost dizzy with the absolute, neck-breaking jumps back and forth between the weird things happening. He was in the middle of a limo with a bunch of strangers dressed in muggle clothing, talking about Ancient Egypt, and how it somehow related to Tom Riddle.</p><p>He did not think his life could get any weirder.</p><p>By the time the car started on its way out of Surrey, the dream Harry had that morning was completely forgotten.</p><hr/><p>“You know, I never actually pictured you as the teaching type. Maybe like, upper administration or something, but definitely not teaching.”</p><p>“Mutou, if you say another word, I will punt you to the moon.”</p><p>Yuugi smiled, the absolute picture of innocence as Seto continued to pack his suitcase—all of it approximately three weeks before the fateful meeting between the tombkeeper’s and Mr. Harry James Potter, only about a day after Mr. Kaiba’s meeting with Albus Dumbledore.</p><p>Needless to say, if it had to do with the Pharaoh, he had to call Yuugi.</p><p>“If you’re already losing your patience, I’d hate so see how you act when someone <em>actually</em> gets on your nerves, you know.”</p><p>“You <em>are</em> actually getting on my nerves.”</p><p>Yuugi laughed, as if Seto’s words didn’t affect him at all, and Seto cursed his newest employee’s sunny disposition for about the millionth time since he’d met the Duel King, instead turning his attention back to his laptop.</p><p>Mokuba would be taking over his company for the time being, with Yuugi leading the project into the Duel Dimension System. Yuugi would also be maintaining things on the Egyptian side, with the help from the Ishtars, and Ryou, for whatever reason. Seto, for the <em>life</em> of him, could not figure out why Ryou would want anything to do with the Ishtars, but he was there, and Seto supposed there was not much he could do to stop him.</p><p>Yuugi leaned forward so that his elbows were on the table, getting into Seto’s personal space, and the taller of the two leaned backwards, blue eyes focused on Yuugi like steady lasers full of stubbornness.</p><p>“You know, there’s always the chance he could refuse.” Yuugi said, actually meeting Seto’s gaze, while Seto finally broke the stare, frowning.</p><p>“I am fully aware. That is not the point. The point is that nobody should be driven to suicide, and nobody bothered to stop it.”</p><p>“And you miss your friend.”</p><p>Seto grunted, grabbing his deck, and stuffing it in the holster, closing the briefcase around it.</p><p>“I expect daily updates, you know. And weekly rematches. And make sure Mokuba eats at least twice a day—he is starting to take after me, and I expect you not to allow that, with how often you insist that <em>I</em> eat.”</p><p>Yuugi laughed again, once more getting in Seto’s personal space, and Seto this time allowed it, while looking away.</p><p>“I know, I know. I’ll keep you updated, and you know that Mokuba will kill me if I don’t.”</p><p>“I also expect that you will be able to defend yourself if something happens. We still often get attacks from competitors, you know, and if there really is some kind of evil wizard out there, it will most likely target us, as we are publicly involved with the Ishtars. I expect you to still be smart enough to get yourself out of dangerous situations, should they arise.”</p><p>“Obviously, obviously.” Yuugi waved his hand dismissively, as if it were something to straight-up be expected at this point, which it kind of was by now. “Do you think I would be the King of Games if I weren’t used to getting out of situations like that at least twice a week?”</p><p>“You should also enter all KaibaCorp sponsored tournaments and remain our main representative. You will be compensated for your extra work, and I expect you to remain in top form in all your duels, even the rematches with me. I will keep testing your skill, to make sure you do not grow sour while I am away.”</p><p>“Kaiba.”</p><p>“And for that matter, make sure that Mokuba keeps his medication schedule, and I give you the full authority to fire any of my employees if they prove to not work up to KaibaCorp standards. As Mokuba’s acting advisor, I expect you to show proper judgement with employee standards, and I expect your progress to continue as normal with the Duel Dimension System, and our conferences should at least be an hour minimum.”</p><p>“<em>Kaiba</em>.”</p><p>Seto finally turned his gaze to meet Mutou, who had his arms crossed, staring expectantly up at the Chess King, foot tapping.</p><p>“You’re worried, and that’s fine. Everything is going to be alright. I’ll be here when you need me.”</p><p>Seto looked away, picking at the cuff of his jacket, taking in a deep breath, and releasing it slowly, through his nose.</p><p>“Fine. Use your best judgement.”</p><p>“You, too, Kaiba.”</p><p>Seto finished packing his laptop, grabbed his briefcase, and he started to head towards the elevator.</p><p>“Don’t get driven too crazy by the school, you know.” Yuugi called after him, and Seto lifted a hand, giving a single wave in reply.</p><hr/><p>“I didn’t expect you to agree to those terms. It kind of goes against everything that you did in your lifetime.”</p><p>“It does, but things are different now. What matters to me most is this new lifetime. Or rather, getting to it.”</p><p>Mahaad’s fingers were folded in front of his face and sitting across from him was the heir to the tombkeeper’s lineage the wizard had established—something of his final protegee, in a long line of his kind.</p><p>They had the same eyes, at the very least. The same, determined face.</p><p>“Our alliance only goes as far as this, however. After that, we will return to our former state, enemy of the Pharaoh.”</p><p>Malik grinned, leaning forward, looking for all the world like the cat that had caught the canary—something appropriate, for the man who had come closest to killing the Pharaoh, as well as all of his friends, during his entire time as one of the Pharaoh’s enemies.</p><p>Eyes gleaming with laughter, he held out a hand to the other, and Mahaad got the impression that this was not going to be the last that Malik made himself their enemy—at least in the abstract sense, if not going against him head-on yet again.</p><p>After all, their debts were equal, but that did not mean that there was no room for continued bad blood in the future, or at least curses sent from both sides. Mahaad, in that case, had no qualms about casting his own.</p><p>“Deal.” Malik said, taking hold of Mahaad’s hand—or at least the projection of it, in his glamoured form as the Dark Magician, summoned by his own power.</p><p>Mahaad shook.</p><p>“Deal.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just for clarification, the Nerd Herd are all one year post-DSOD, while the Golden Trio are all fifteen. Nobody in the Nerd Herd, apart from Mokuba, is young enough to go to Hogwarts.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Perhaps the worst thing about wizard, in Seto Kaiba's opinion, was just how goddamn <em>nosy</em> they were.</p><p>He supposed it came with the profession, that being a group of knowledge-seekers who travelled the world and tried to uncover the secrets of magic. Or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they all had their heads so far up their asses that they could hardly breathe. Whatever the case, Seto Kaiba was quite certain that the more time he spent with wizards, the more he was about to pop one of their heads off like a zit.</p><p>Whatever the case, he was stuck with them for the time being, and their goddamn, idiotic, supernatural arrogance was about to make him burst. Particularly when it came to the system of government that he had found himself privy to, having been stuck as a part of this world since the moment he shook the <em>other</em> obnoxious wizard's hand.</p><p>Seto Kaiba always hated politicians, and these people weren't making it any better, to be honest.</p><p>He was standing in the middle of a toilet, on a Monday morning, wearing a stark white suit, and carrying his standard briefcase, containing his deck, laptop, duel disc, and a variety of flash drives and a power brick for his laptop. All of this sensitive material packed away in waterproof metal, insulated with careful padding, and with his phone in his pocket to top it all off.</p><p>He was dressed to the nines, ready for a meeting with serious politicians, showing the utmost courtesy and respect to the people with whom he would be meeting. And yet, here he was. Standing perched over a toilet.</p><p>"You know, Kaiba, this is all for the Pharaoh." Malik Ishtar said smugly, in Japanese, standing in the stall next to Seto Kaiba. The CEO had the intense urge to punt the Egyptian through the stall-maybe making use of some of those Shadow Magic abilities Malik constantly bleated about-but instead he took hold of the cord, yanking it straight down, and wincing while his suit was covered in toilet water. Toilet water! Of all the <em>low-class, commoner, trashy</em> things...</p><p>He was sending some kind of bill to these people. Be it in their <em>Monopoly</em> money or not, he would get compensation for this shit. Who the hell still used <em>actual gold coins</em> anyway? There was a <em>reason</em> people transferred to paper.</p><p>Stepping out of the toilet, Seto Kaiba found himself instantly hit by a wave of magic spells, instantly drying his clothing and giving him a mouth full of ash, and the strange feeling of cleanliness that persisted when getting some sort of mold done to one's teeth.</p><p>It was at that moment Seto Kaiba decided some changes were due to this place, and he didn't care who he had to speak to, as long as it was reasonably done.</p><p>When he finally managed to clear the taste out of his mouth, and shake himself out of the blind irritation that had befallen him, he finally took a look around at his surroundings, and if he had been annoyed before, he realized that nothing would amount to the fury that took him over upon evaluating his surroundings.</p><p>In all honesty, it wasn't any kind of moral outrage. He didn't give a shit about these wizards, and their society. No-it was the fact that, more than anything, the entire place was a monument to poor <em>taste</em>.</p><p>Seto Kaiba had his fair share of guilty pleasures, of things that looked ridiculous, and he damn well knew it. He slapped dragons on everything that could conceivably carry the image of one, and even changed things so that they could have such a visage. He knew he liked tacky things. But for god's sake, dragons were at least <em>interesting</em> to look at.</p><p>In the center of it all, there was a statue of a witch and a wizard, spouting water out of their wands, while various creatures looked on with adoring, simpering gazes, and Kaiba couldn't help but curl his lip at the ridiculousness of it all-at the clear showing of a sense of smug superiority that had his skin crawling. He could quite imagine his Blue-Eyes devouring them all, and he had the oddest memory of the way that his father looked at him as he spoke about things like <em>Might Make Rights</em> and it wasn't <em>HIS fault the weapons were being used</em>.</p><p>Ridiculous.</p><p>Even more ridiculous were the outfits that the adults were running around in-bright colors that looked like they were all wearing <em>snuggies</em>, running to sleep-overs at each other's houses, and sure, Mokuba liked wearing snuggies while eating oreos on the couch, but these men had beards, and he thought it was more ridiculous than the linen sheets that the stupid Magician Priest wore in their occasional planned discussions.</p><p>
  <em>'Oh, Set. Impatient as always. You and your ridiculous hat.'</em>
</p><p>Kaiba had to bite back the urge to reply to the stupid card in his pocket with "<em>Kissass</em>."</p><p>Brushing himself off all the disgust, he glanced-around, and he was finally approached by a man wearing marroon robes and half-moon glasses-Albus Dumbledore, somehow looking even more silly in his natural habitat-and accompanying him was a kid who couldn't have been older than Mokuba himself, with the same mane of shaggy, black hair, and enormous, green eyes behind glasses that he was obviously starting to outgrow at this point, and clothes that were at least four years too small for him, and were just as faded, and not in the fashionable sense.</p><p>The kid was incredibly skinny, undersized, and ratty. The perfect imge of the kind of kid that Seto's heart would go out to, if only just because he had a ridiculous resemblance to Mokuba, when the kid had first come to live with Gozaburo.</p><p>Not that he would ever say such a thing, of course.</p><p>"Ah! Mr. Kaiba. I'm relieved that you managed to make it here in one piece." Albus Dumbledore said warmly, sticking his hand out to Seto Kaiba, who promptly pretended that he didn't see the hand which was offered to him, and instead slid his gaze back down to the kid standing in front of him.</p><p>"And you are?"</p><p>"Uh?" The kid looked back towards Kaiba, sized him up and down, and jutted out his chin, in an obvious show of defiance and attitude that, once more, reminded Seto of Mokuba. "Harry Potter. And I'm <em>not</em> crazy."</p><p>"Good start." Kaiba rose an eyebrow, then turned his gaze to the witches and wizards around them, who had stopped to stare and whisper behind their hands. Kaiba guessed he couldn't blame the kid. At the very least, they seemed to find the kid as <em>distasteful</em> as Seto himself found the rest of them.</p><p>Assholes.</p><p>"What are you doing here, anyway?" The kid pushed his glasses up his nose, taking a longer look at Kaiba, looking him up and down, as if sizing him up the same way that Seto did to him. "You're a muggle, aren't you? You look like one."</p><p>"Yes. I am. I have no business in your wizarding world. I'm just here as a representative of a group of people who have business with you. You'll find out about it soon-enough." Seto hummed. Sensing that the conversation was coming to a close, Dumbledore smiled wider, gathering Seto's elbow in his fingers, making the CEO shoot him with a death glare that the wizard either didn't notice, or didn't care about.</p><p>"Introductions are a painful business, aren't they? Why don't we all get to know each other in the place we all have business in."</p><p>"Indeed."</p><p>Approaching the reception desk, Seto was painfully reminded of the fact that beurocracy existed, even in the most ridiculous of places, and even at the ends of the Earth.</p><p>After speaking with the woman behind the desk, they went over the fact that Seto was a muggle with no formal, magical education several times, brought out at least three wizards for Seto's paperwork and birth certificate, as well as his family history, and after assuring them that he was fucking <em>adopted</em>, so they'd find nothing, and that he dealt with magic <em>regularly</em>, Seto finally said fuck it, grabbed his duel disc, and slammed down Hitatsumi Giant, summoning the creature and letting it roar, adequetly scaring the shit out of every wizard within hearing distance, but adequetly showing them all that he could do magic.</p><p>They'd deal with the fall out later.</p><p>It was after tht ridiculousness that he was finally brought back towards the grand courtrooms of the Ministry of Magic (and gods know how much he hated even thinking those words-who would name a government building something like that? And who would have the kind of <em>arrogance</em> to name a building something like that? Kaiba definitely would have the arrogance to name his buildings things like that, admittedly, but gods be <em>damned</em> if these people at least didn't <em>know</em> they were behaving like complete and utter fools.)</p><p>The Ministry of Magic's layout, he discovered, was completely designed to be the least-helpful building that he had possibly dealt with.</p><p>The halls were quite narrow and singular, and there was <em>one</em> elevator, which was made of copper, ran on magic, and creaked obnoxiously whenever they stopped at a floor. All of the doors to the offices they passed were noisy, with plenty of chatter, and Kaiba had the urge to tell everyone that they were being unproductive, foolish idiots everytime he managed to pass someoen in the hall, and only found himself able to hold his tongue with the knowledge that he would have to actually <em>talk</em> to them if he decided to do that.</p><p>Maybe it was the timezone difference that was doing this. He certainly <em>hoped</em> so, because if he had this foul of a mood just starting out in the wizarding world, he was quite certain that he wouldn't be able to put up with this nonsense for a full <em>year</em>.</p><p>Eventually, they came to the great courtroom (which he soon learned was called Wizengamont, and he wanted to throttle someone right then and there for that, and decided the man in the bowler hat was probably the best option here) and he was quickly met with the knowledge that he was at least not alone here, because Malik Ishtar had managed to make himself at home in the center of the room, legs kicked back on the table, and sitting in a chair that was teetering dangerously on two legs which he was pushing back and forth in a rhythmic manner, while a few of the court attendents desperately attempted to get him to stop.</p><p>Kaiba would never admit he was relieved to see Malik. Half because it was his sister's fault for sending the Pharaoh to the afterlife in the first place. And half because Malik was a fucking psychopath who would probably gut him just to see that yes, Kaiba really <em>did</em> have a heart!</p><p>At the moment, at least, they had an uneasy alliance, and Kaiba casually strutted to the middle of the courtroom, an uneasy Harry Potter following him, while Albus Dumbledore also followed to the front with the same confidence as Seto Kaiba, if not moreso, because he actually knew what he was doing in this world.</p><p>The woman in the middle-a squat, toadlike woman dressed in pink robes-leaned forward as she saw the foreigners, Dumbledore, and Harry enter the room. Shuffling a few papers, she pushed her brows together, and produced her wand, as well as a small gavel from her robes.</p><p>"Am I to presume that this is the opening to your case, Albus?" The woman asked in a sugary-sweet tone that Kaiba remembered quite vividly from the orphanage, causing his lips to press into a thin line. "And, pray tell, why have you decided to bring Mr. Harry James Potter to your court hearing today, along with two foreigners, both <em>muggles</em>?"</p><p>"Well, Dolores, I have brought Harry Potter to help plead our case in leaving the mysteries of death well-enough alone, as well as our friends here to assure you that the Door would be going to a good place. Which brings us to our opening statement-that the Door in the Department of Mysteries should certainly be returned back to its home in Egypt, where it belongs."</p><p>A hushed murmur fell over the courtroom, with the woman-Dolores's-face coloring a shade of purple, while the man in the bowler hat laughed quietly to himself, taking off the hat and beginning to spin it on his fingers.</p><p>"Surely you jest, Albus. The Department is our pride and joy, and it is every wizard's dream to discover the mysteries of the true magic. The Door was obtained completely legally, when Egypt allowed us purchase of the Door. You have no legal grounds to stand on with your plea."</p><p>Malik grunted, obviously displeased. "It is thievery. You excavated the Door, and <em>stole</em> it here. You <em>broke</em> the curses placed on the Door in order to get it here. That Door <em>rightfully</em> belongs to the Ishtar Clan. We guarded the Doors to the Afterlife for <em>centuries</em>, and you British wizards came and <em>stole</em> it."</p><p>The bowler hat man colored some, obviously flustered by the turn of events, having the descendent of one of the tombkeepers in front of him. Malik sneered in response, and fixed the man with a stare, until he turned away.</p><p>"You are allowed to feel entitled to the Door, but it is no different than the Goblins feeling entitled to the swords that they make. Times change, and again, the Door's ownership is perfectly legal."</p><p>"Be that as it may, there is still cause for concern about meddling in the affairs of the dead. With Voldemort's return, it is not unheard of that there may be others, even monstrosities, that will escape here."</p><p>"Utter nonsense." Dolores clicked her tongue. "Paranoia from a boy merely seeking to inflate his head."</p><p>Harry started, but Albus held out his arm to stop him.</p><p>"Think of it, Dolores. Isn't the Door's purpose to understand life returning from the dead? If someone were to crack it open, why wouldn't it be him?"</p><p>"Albus, please." Another witch cut in. "What does any of this have to do with returning the Door to Egypt? Wouldn't it be even more dangerous, back underground? Who would be there to properly monitor it? Him?"</p><p>She pointed to Malik, who had gone back to tipping back in his chair. A low noise developed in Malik's throat, but he was able to hold it down.</p><p>"That's where I come in." Kaiba casually said. "I am here to present a lawsuit against the Ministry of Magic, from the Ishtar Family, filed under International Wizarding Law, endorsed by Albus Dumbledore, and the Egyptian House of Life. The ownership of the Door to the Afterlife rightfully belongs to the Ishtar Family, and we're presenting your negligence regarding Harry Potter's witnissing of a revival as your first offense."</p><p>Silence fell for a minute, as the man in the bowler hat held out his hand for the paperwork, which Albus took from Kaiba, and presented to the court. A few more minutes of quiet passed, before he slowly lowered his glasses.</p><p>"Get out of my Court."</p><p>"The first hearing will be in two months, in the House of Life." Malik said smugly. "My family will meet you there."</p><p>"I said<em> get out of my Court."</em></p><p>"Pleasure working with you." Malik chirped, before getting up from the chair, and beginning to exit the room. Dumbledore smiled cheerfully, holding out his arm to Seto Kaiba.</p><p>"This will be our new Muggle Studies teacher. One of our associates will be a new History of Magic teacher. We hope this will be a good year at Hogwarts."</p><p>"I SAID <strong><em>GET OUT."</em></strong></p><p>A few minutes later found Harry nervously adjusting his glasses outside the door.</p><p>"I think that went well."</p><p>"Indeed. Let's get you to your new summer home, Mr. Potter. Your friends have been waiting for you."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I almost had Malik call them "colonizers" but I felt that would be a little too on the nose. Next chapter is Grimmauld Place, which Harry hasn't made it to yet. Hopefully the plot is coming together.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ten years ago, I started writing a story in which Seto Kaiba was a teacher at Hogwarts. I was thirteen years old.</p><p>In that time, I have rewritten it twice, graduated High School, and I am on my final semester to become a teacher myself, on my final test to get a license. By the time this is over, I may be ten years into teaching myself. Who knows?</p><p>As for a need to not play coy, I know that Rowling has revealed herself to be a rather disgusting person, and I understand if you do not want to engage with this as a matter of moral obligation. I am making no excuses for her. For me, however, this is less an act of fandom, and more an act of catharsis—to exercise this story in my head that has been haunting me as my first story I have shared with the world. I am making no money from this, and I am giving no money to Rowling, nor will I ever promote her works beyond using her characters and setting as a playground for my own themes and ideals. Take solace in the fact that I am never supporting her, nor her work ever again—only my own lived experiences.</p><p>It will be updated slowly, and planned meticulously, as my piece of work that I have come back to a decade later. I have also shifted the focus—rather, it will be focused on the adults, with the children discovering their works in the process, as I am indeed no longer a child the way I used to be. (Perhaps the issue with Harry Potter teachers is that they never had proper training. A world of emergency certified teachers...terrifying.)</p><p>Without further preamble, this is my first fanfiction. Shadows, Wizardry, and Pink Toads.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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